You are here
NarcissistInTheThirdVerse Arts 


I’m not a musician,

but I wish I was.

Soundscapes weaving the heart

Vibrations burning cyan


I’m half a mile away from bursting to flames,

I can taste the heat from an inch of my fingers,

Hit the ground.


I’m not a scientist,

but I wish I was.

Physics tying strings in the stars

Building smoke and bubbling black


My heart is a hammer,

Flying off to the rush, the edge of the firework

Feel my blood in steam


I’m not a comedian,

but I wish I was.

Laughter drawing the instincts

Hovering in the colour orange


Cutthroat coming up smoke,

I ate a rose bush for the thorns in my teeth,

Fuck this crooked smile


I’m not a painter,

but I wish I was.

Brushes melting in bright plastic mirador

Counting clocks in shades of grey


Boiled brain cells in a skull cage,

I’m a puddle in red-blue

Stain your chewed-out fingernails


I’m not a magician,

but I wish I was.

Lies quivering through facades

Twisting cards in quiet emerald


I’m a human monster in the flesh,

Ripped from an ugly world’s

Chalk-based womb


I’m not a poet,

I’m not a writer,

I’m half a human in a steel pipe,

Crowds shadowing my self-esteem

Dancing scenery in molten sapphire


Feed my starved out ego,

Thick fat creature with a black hole stomach,

I am him, I ate him


Not a musician,

A scientist,

A comedian,

A painter,

A magician,

A poet,

Or a fucking writer,


Looming aspirations and glooming desperation

Praised-be to the narcissists,

Statuettes for Saint Bloodlust and the likes of Me

Written By: June Rossaert



About The Author
June Rossaert June Rossaert is a Vanier alumnus who studied as a Communications student at Vanier, with a background in Visual Arts and Cinema from the Saint-Hyacinthe Cegep. She is an aspiring novelist, poet and screenwriter hoping to obtain a degree in creative writing and literature. Her parents, one might be surprised to hear, are rather supportive of her chosen field, perhaps because they have yet to lose hope that she will eventually earn enough money to survive on her own, and her friends are simply blind optimists. June Rossaert is, essentially, a hopeless nerd with a passion for the written word which she desperately hopes to transfer through her works.

Related posts

Leave a Comment